


The Devil's On His Way

by ltgmars



Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: Gen, Horror, Supernatural Elements, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-09
Updated: 2012-11-09
Packaged: 2017-11-29 12:13:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/686829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ltgmars/pseuds/ltgmars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jun and Sho are detectives who investigate paranormal mysteries with varying degrees of success, but their latest case proves nearly insurmountable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Devil's On His Way

**Author's Note:**

  * For [astrangerenters](https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrangerenters/gifts).



> Written during [](http://je-squickfic.livejournal.com/profile)[**je_squickfic**](http://je-squickfic.livejournal.com/) 2012, originally posted [here](http://je-squickfic.livejournal.com/33704.html). Thanks to [](http://alphie-damiek.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://alphie-damiek.livejournal.com/)**alphie_damiek** for the late-night beta session. We will never be more articulate than we were that night.

It's not like Jun is overly superstitious. He'd say he's as averagely superstitious as most Japanese -- he avoids the numbers four and nine, and he's careful not to eat anything weird before the new year in case he has bad dreams that will haunt him for the next 365 days. That's as far as it goes, though. He doesn't strain himself to follow every creepy rule and look around every suspicious corner before he attempts to live his life.

Unfortunately, that doesn't mean he doesn't remember everything. He blames Toma, who in their youth came to his house after school every afternoon with urban legends he heard from his classmates. Missing lunchboxes and eerie moaning and the rest of it, typical middle school fare meant to get classmates to listen. Jun probably shouldn't have paid that much attention to Toma's ramblings, given the content and the fact that it was just a bunch of kouhai telling tales. But he hated when his sister didn't listen to him just because he was younger, and he knew that he owed Toma that much.

So the details stay with him like a recurring nightmare, like a scab that he's constantly reminded of, keeps poking at just because someone tells him it's there. The curious little details of every dark and cautionary tale he's heard replay in his mind even when it's safe and sunny outside. Jun isn't overly superstitious, exactly, but he knows how it feels.

It's ironic, then, for him to have the job that he has -- and this he also blames on Toma, though the work itself isn't unfulfilling. It's precisely because he has his detailed-but-not-overly-superstitious disposition that he's suited to his line of work.

The office is filed away on the second floor of an unassuming building in a discreet business complex in East Gotanda. The building belongs to the family who operates the bakery on the first floor, where Jun stops for breakfast when he hasn't had time to make it himself, and sometimes in the middle of the day when the smell of freshly baked bread is just too much to resist. Jun bows at the owner, an elderly woman sweeping autumn off the sidewalk, and she greets him like melon bread, warm and familiar.

Jun works his way up the narrow staircase toward the office door, digging in his bag for his keychain, but as he gets closer he hears the wobble of the coat rack in the far corner of the office and sees the light go on, peeping through the translucent glass and pristine lettering on the door. It's times like these he's glad he has a partner who likes to use the back entrance. He already deals with strange occurrences on a daily basis; he doesn't need any more.

"Sho-kun," Jun calls as he reaches the second floor landing. "Open up!"

There's some brief shuffling and measured footsteps and the heavy click of a lock. Jun watches the knob turn on its own and the door open inward, squeaking the way it does sometimes when the weather cools down and the hinges refuse to cooperate. Jun looks up and is met with a smile. "Good morning, MatsuJun."

Jun met Sho at a college party, something a mutual friend had put together to celebrate the end of the exam period one spring. Toma teases him and says that Jun fell in love at first sight, but Jun likes to think of it as sudden admiration, when even after too many bottles of beer, Sho could navigate conversations about the state of the economy and hardball politics and still be mindful enough to tell his drunken comrades to clean up after themselves.

"You," Sho had said cockily, grinning in Jun's direction. "Do you like brain teasers?"

Jun did, in fact, though he was never quite able to puzzle out how such a simple question led to the relationship they have now, partners at the paranormal detective agency they established even before they were out of school. It had been a way to pass the time between school obligations, though as it turned out they spent most of their time in the office writing academic papers to the humming of the office's central air system. But they took occasional breaks when Toma came in with cases to solve -- this injury, that disappearance, the mysterious howling noise down the street -- and over the years, they'd made a name for themselves within their pocket of the city. Even local authorities grudgingly acknowledged them as an asset to the community, occasionally knocking on the office door when the police detectives proved themselves utterly incompetent. It wasn't as if they could solve every mystery, because sometimes an eerie occurrence was just an eerie occurrence, but at least they were better equipped to connect and empathize with their clients than a bureaucratic, stuffily official government agency was.

"Good morning, Sho-kun," Jun says fondly, and Sho's smile turns into a grin as he nods and retreats wordlessly into the coffee side of the office. They never know what'll be coming through their door any given day, but they both know that mornings don't start until they've funneled caffeine down their throats.

Jun's desk is sleek and simple, oak with a dark finish. There's a lamp on the right side that he never uses because the overhead light is plenty, but it gives his workspace a professional feel that he enjoys. Lined up at pleasant angles within easy reach are the tools he needs for his job: a notepad where he takes note of the details of each location, a collection of paranormal tales to cross-reference, and the cloth pencil case he bought with the money they earned from their first solved case. It's a reminder of how far they've come since they first started serving the community, and even though it's tattered despite how careful he is with it, he keeps it because he doesn't want to forget what he's doing there. The cases are often uncomfortable, and sometimes they're downright frightening, but his purpose is bigger than he is. The people are counting on him, and he can't let them down.

No clients come in that day, and Jun's okay with that. He likes the occasional days off, because it's a high-stress job and they need a break sometimes. If they keep going non-stop, he runs the risk of inconveniencing other people, of letting Sho down, of creating mounting expecations for himself that he's never going to meet. On the drive home, a car in the next lane over barely stops in time to let a woman and her young children cross the street safely, their alarmed yelps and the wail of the panicked tires mingling on a strained high note. Jun spends the rest of the drive mulling over a story Toma once told him about an abandoned parking lot where shouting and screeching could be heard every night and tire marks appeared every morning. He has an absent thought about how that intersection might also be haunted someday.

Jun has a dream that night, after a quiet dinner of carbonara and wine in front of the television. There had been a special comedian showcase that he'd enjoyed, an opportunity for him to sink into something silly and match the straight men's quips blow for blow. When he closes his eyes, he finds himself on stage with Sho next to him. Obviously Jun will be taking the straight man role.

Sho starts with a short story about teaching his younger brother how to ride a bicycle, adding in ridiculous details like ducks and fire hydrants and Japanese-Korean dictionaries. The jokes don't make sense, but that just makes Jun's quips that much sharper. Each blow to Sho's shoulder knocks it down an angle lower, each swipe to Sho's head unhinging it from his neck just a little more. Jun loses himself in the act, outright striking Sho with closed fists even before Sho's had a chance to say anything at all, and the finale comes when Jun slaps Sho across the face and it spins on his shoulders like a merry-go-round. It keeps spinning, around and around, until it twists off cleanly and completely, riding the momentum of the slap a couple of feet before landing on the ground and rolling toward Jun's feet, face up, grinning widely.

The cheers from the audience echo in Jun's bedroom as he opens his eyes, adrenaline pumping. He turns his head and steadies his breathing as he lets himself digest the fact that he's woken up at 5:38am in the best morning mood he's ever had.

He waits until a more decent time before he texts Toma -- if anyone can talk him out of disturbing dreams, it's the person who's been at fault since day one. Toma texts back just as Jun's finishing up his bowl of rice, and they agree to meet at the office as soon as they both can make it.

Toma only visits the office when he can get time away from the middle school. He works as a second year teacher and, more importantly to him, the varsity soccer coach. While he seems to enjoy feeding Jun and Sho all the creepy cases their hearts desire, Jun's happy that Toma's been able to find a more fulfilling use of his time, especially since business has picked up and they don't need to rely on Toma's pity cases to get by anymore. It's always nice to have Toma around, though, and he sometimes comes by during late evenings with takeout ramen and massage hands by request.

By the time Jun arrives at the office, Toma's already let himself in with his spare key and is standing in front of the coffeemaker, watching it drip. Sho's not in yet, and Jun naturally switches from college study session mode into neighborhood friend mode. "Toma," Jun calls, affectionate. It's only been a couple of weeks, but any amount of time is too much time.

Toma turns and gives a single wave, really just a flick of the wrist. "Yo."

There's a table on the coffee side of the office, flanked by cream armchairs on either side, crushed leather thrones with not too many frills but just enough cushion. Jun had picked them out with clients in mind; he believes that clients being comfortable with their team as investigators starts with being physically comfortable in their office. Toma sits where Sho usually does, and Jun can't help but wonder if he's done it on purpose to make _Jun_ more comfortable, filling out different creases and eliminating Sho's existence from the office completely. It's just the two of them, just gawky Jun and his snot-nosed neighbor, and while Jun's grown out of his awkward teeth and sharp elbows, he's glad he never had to grow out of his hometown bubble. He likes having it around when he needs it.

Jun tells Toma about his dream, and Toma listens, nodding attentively and making listening noises between sips of coffee. His face grows grim as Jun continues his narrative, and finally Jun finishes, conveniently leaving out the detail where the dream got him thrilled and excited, and not frightened and anxious the way that kind of dream should.

"Hm," Toma begins carefully, and it's in his caution and consideration that Jun can tell he's actually grown up. "Have you considered taking a break? Maybe taking afternoons off when there isn't much going on." Toma taps his fingernail against his coffee mug, and Jun wishes he'd stop. "Just being in this office surrounded by work is stressful, isn't it? You probably need to take a break from thinking about scary things, though I know you can't help it sometimes." Toma gives Jun an understanding smile then. "Especially since you keep blaming me for it."

Toma leaves for work after a good old-fashioned grade school squabble, and Sho comes in later and agrees with Toma's diagnosis, sending Jun home for lunch and then dinner and then some kind of fragrant bubble bath. "It seems like the kind of thing you would enjoy." Jun doesn't deny it. He spends the day on the couch, staring blankly at the moving pictures on the television, and then finishes off the day with equally blank time in the bath. He has a blissfully dreamless sleep that night, and when he wakes up in the morning he tries not to think about how part of him is probably sad for that.

The report on Jun's desk when he gets to the office is not welcome news. It's a summary of the case he'd missed when he was busy having a nothing day, and the details are uncomfortably familiar. A woman had been found the previous morning, cleanly beheaded. Her time of death is estimated to have been between 5:30 and 6 in the morning. The reason the authorities had called their office for help was because she'd been found in a sealed room, locked from the inside, with no escape route and no way for her to have sliced her own head off.

A finger raps sharply at the report, and Jun startles and shoves himself away from the desk, eyes wide. Sho's looking down at him with a serious expression on his face. He glances down at the paper and back up at Jun, tapping once more. "We're investigating today."

They stay late that night, going over the evidence they'd gathered. Jun's long given up on trying to make sense of what they'd heard: unhelpful accounts from friends and family of when they'd last seen her, what her morning routine usually was, what she liked to eat in the morning. Nothing explains the impossible decapitation and the cold feeling Jun has that he knows her exact time of death. So he focuses instead on the way Sho looks when he's concentrating on information, the way his eyes narrow as he rakes over his notes, the way his lips curl frustratedly as he unconsciously spins a pen between his fingers. Jun finds it easy to get lost in the details of Sakurai Sho, because Jun is an aesthetic person and Sho is an aesthetic wonderland. So he takes a tour just long enough for the eerie coincidence to leave his mind completely.

Toma doesn't bring them the gift of takeout, so as soon as Jun arrives at home, he strides toward the refrigerator and finds leftover pasta to throw into the microwave. The microwave buzzes, the dish rotates, and Jun rolls his neck as he waits. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the kitchen window, its curtain drawn to the side even though Jun doesn't remember touching it. It's dark outside, and Jun's apartment is reflected in the glass, shifting to reveal a different angle with each step Jun takes. When he reaches the window, he sees his own reflection, tired and dull, bags under his eyes like deep pockets to fill with endless doubts and anxieties. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, and when the microwave chimes, he opens them again, just to find Sho's head smiling back at him. Jun yelps and jumps back, and in the blink of an eye, he's returned, his mouth open, his chest heaving, his living room laid out behind him, his eyes daggering from pane to pane. He swallows slowly, shooting his hand forward to thrash the curtain closed, and he breathes in, out, in, out, before he walks toward the microwave to retrieve his piping hot nerves.

Toma texts around one in the morning, just as Jun's working on a can of beer before bed. Toma apologizes for not being able to bring them food for their late night, and Jun tells him that he can make up for it by coming by for a nightcap, goading Toma until he agrees. By the time Toma leaves several hours later, Jun's ready to drop face first into his bed, and all thoughts of decapitated window reflections are gloriously forgotten.

The next morning coordinates with Jun's mood, a dreary and unpleasant chill in the air. Jun frowns, padding into the kitchen and peeking out the window to see if it's raining outside. Results are conclusive, but not conclusive enough to guarantee that there won't be rain in the afternoon or evening, so he walks into the living room and turns on the television, which greets him with the news of a man found the night before, decapitated. Jun can predict the rest of the news report, so he reaches for the remote control, pressing the wrong button a few times because his hand is shaking furiously, before he manages to turn the television off and be forced to hear more of what he already knows.

He rushes out of his apartment and on the way to the office sees a group of girls jumping into a large pile of leaves, getting their last crunches in before the leaves get soggy in the rain. He recalls the story about a man who hides in piles of leaves, waiting for unsuspecting schoolchildren to jump onto his carving knife, and he doesn't have enough energy to fish his thoughts out of the dark before he arrives at work.

The original plan for the day had been to do a more thorough investigation of locked room of their Anne Boleyn, a codename Sho had come up with based on "fun facts" from his high school world history book. Jun tells Sho that they should stay in the office for the morning because they have a Mishima Yukio coming their way, and sure enough, an investigator from the local police department knocks on their door with details about their second victim, cleanly beheaded in a locked room, just like their first.

Jun finds it hard to concentrate at the crime scene. His mind is working double-time to keep up with the unexplained events (as well as Jun's own unexplained premonitions), and as a result he keeps noticing details unrelated to the case. The carpet in the room has a color and pattern that means three people will die there; the police investigator clicks her pen in the tune of a dirge; Sho keeps looking at Jun, looking at Jun, _looking at Jun_. He probably knows Jun's behind it all, somehow, even though Jun has no idea how or why it's happening.

There's an important link between the two victims, which Sho discovers quickly: they're both from the neighborhood Jun grew up in. He says so evenly and carefully, no accusations or curiosity or any other emotions tainting his voice, and Jun appreciates the consideration, but he reacts nonetheless. "I don't know either of them," Jun says fervently, unsure who he's trying to convince.

"I know," Sho assures him, nodding seriously. "You would have said something if you did."

Jun goes home on edge. He avoids looking at reflective surfaces, to an extent that even in his state of mind he recognizes as extreme: he tapes shut the kitchen window curtain, leaves the television on, doesn't look in the bathroom mirror while he's brushing his teeth. By the time he's ready for bed, he congratulates himself on a successful night without beheading Sho, but sleep doesn't come easily, or at all. His body keeps him up all night, or maybe it's his subconscious, paranoid that he'll dream another fatal dream. Who knows how many people he has left to kill, if only he gets the chance to see Sho's face?

The television is still on mute when Jun blearily slumps into the couch in the morning. Dawn is just breaking, and birds chirp lively melodies, a last few still holding out before they migrate as winter weather sets in. Jun scratches his leg lazily and hears a slow scraping noise, probably courtesy of the skeletons under the floorboards trying to escape. Or so Toma told him. Toma told him. It's not true. Jun stops scratching and the skeletons disappear.

There are no new victims featured between the weather and a piece on famous food from Akita Prefecture. The footage they have is the same as the day before, with brief commentary about continued investigations. None of the newscasters makes any mention of Matsumoto Jun as somehow the culprit, and Jun feels surprisingly refreshed as he makes his way out the door.

Sho doesn't seem so assured, and with one glance at Jun's face upon arrival at the office, he orders Jun to take the day off. Sho will do more work to see what the connection between the victims is and how the rooms might have been locked. Jun, Sho says, will relax and destress and rest up for the days ahead. Jun feels himself agreeing, and he toddles down the staircase toward the first floor bakery, where he decides he'll have a nice, slow brunch. Jun nibbles on warm curry bread and maps out the rest of his day: he'll go home, take a long afternoon nap, have dinner, and sleep a quiet, peaceful night's sleep without killing anyone.

Jun's plan falls apart while he's preparing dinner, when he looks down into his soup pot and he sees Sho's head staring up at him. The carrots and celery look innocent in the next moment, but Jun already knows the damage has been done. He turns the burner off and slinks to the kitchen floor, his shoulder knocking back into a cabinet door as he pulls his cell phone out of his pocket. He needs to talk to Toma, honestly, about everything. Toma will know what to do.

Toma doesn't respond, though, and it's only in the morning after another sleepless night, when Jun's watching the news and staring straight into the eyes of the third decapitated locked room victim, that Toma texts back. _Sorry, I was busy last night. Is everything okay?_ It's not. Jun needs to talk to Toma about something, and Toma agrees to take the afternoon off so that he can be at the office. Toma mentions something about having the team train among themselves, and Jun almost feels guilty about how little he cares. He's too happy knowing, somehow, that everything will be resolved. Toma will have an answer from some far-fetched urban legend, and Jun will never have to worry about killing anyone with his thoughts ever again.

Sho's left a note on Jun's desk, a quick scrawl about having seen the news and getting a head start on the investigation. It's accompanied by a specialty pizza bread from the bakery and instructions to _Rest. Eat._ Jun smiles at the bread, mumbling about how it's a little heavy for breakfast, but he happily polishes it off.

Toma comes, and Jun confesses to everything: the dream, the window, the soup, and how he knows he was the one behind the murders, somehow. Toma smiles and says everything will be okay, and with that simple phrase, Jun's entire body relaxes, as if his inherent trust in Toma is felt before it's understood. Jun's senses are sharp despite the lack of sleep, alive, as if they've been released from some kind of mental prison. Jun looks at the lamp on his desk and sees a lamp. Not a legendary haunted object. Not a potential tool for murder.

It's going to be another late night of problem solving, Jun predicts, but the only difference is that this night will be the last, at least when it comes to this case. He doesn't know how he knows, but he can sense it, somehow. They won't be dealing with decapitated locked room cases for a long time to come.

Food is in order! So Toma heads out, promising to return with goodies that will carry them through the night. Jun takes the time to survey the office and make sure everything's lined up properly, the way he likes it to be. Jun's desk is straightened, of course, since he hasn't done much work on it in the past couple of days. The armchairs are slightly askew from when Toma and Jun had been sitting in them, but Jun only lines them up perfunctorily; they'll be eating and taking breaks at the table, so they'll do a more proper rearranging at the end of the night. And then Jun starts up the coffeemaker; they'll be needing that, too.

By the time Jun hears clambering up the back entrance, he's settled comfortably into his armchair, a mug of coffee in one hand and a book in the other. It's one of the _Detective Galileo_ short story collections; Jun had started some time ago, because he finds the dissonance between fictionalized detectives and actual detectives fascinating and telling of human nature. The book had been forgotten in favor of the current case and its undue effect on Jun's psyche, but with the imminent completion of the former and the safe restoration of the latter, Jun sees no harm in picking his book back up and living out exciting detective adventures vicariously through Professor Yukawa and associates while he waits for his own associates to return.

They arrive together; Toma explains that he ran into Sho on the way to the ramen shop, so they went together and picked out special orders to celebrate the end of a long case. Jun thanks them for their hard work. Toma nods; Sho, tired after a long day of investigating, simply smiles.

It turns out that there isn't much to work out in the end. The locked rooms will remain locked, as will the magically clean decapitations. Jun can't pretend to know how the world works in relation to the human consciousness, whether natural or induced. But there's something wonderful about conviction, how the belief that something will end, inevitably brings about its end.

The victims' addresses create a triangle on the map, equal on all sides. The center of the triangle, as luck would have it, lies directly between Jun's parents' house and Toma's parents' house. It's contrived and convenient, but it's a sign. Jun's learned never to reject signs just because they're exactly what's expected. Even though it had all been subconscious, he'd somehow known that those three victims were the only ones they'd be investigating before the case was closed.

The drive is like the tide at night, calm and quiet. A day ago, Jun would be crazed behind the wheel, the shadows chasing mercilessly after him as he tried to race to the warm light of his apartment before he's swallowed by the darkness. This time, the darkness is his friend, swaddling him as he's delivered home.

The first thing he does when he gets home is head into the kitchen. He opens the window curtain and studies his reflection. It's him, just him. He looks a little tired, his eyes dark and his hair mussed, but it's nothing a good night's rest won't fix.

He puts the third bowl of ramen in the refrigerator and Sho's head on the counter. That night, he has no trouble sleeping.


End file.
